


Urgency

by Jess_B_Fossil



Series: At the Edge of Tomorrow [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canon-Compliant, Felix is BL House, Frottage, Hand Jobs, If You Squint - Freeform, Its plot what plot in the end, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Maybe vague spoilers, Not really spoilers tho., Oneshot, Oral Sex, PWP, Post-Time Skip, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Sylvain is GD, They really shouldn't bone each other on a battlefield, War, no really, slight praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 09:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21251150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jess_B_Fossil/pseuds/Jess_B_Fossil
Summary: This certainty wasn’t what Sylvain had expected, when he stepped out on Gronder Field. Clad in his armor and glinting in the sunlight, Lance of Ruin in his grip and his head held high, he’d been prepared to drown in the blood of former friends and companions.And then he saw Felix, and like always, Felix fucks things up. Every. Fucking. Time.Oneshot, Post Time-skip, Sylvix.





	Urgency

This certainty wasn’t what Sylvain had expected, when he stepped out on Gronder Field. Clad in his armor and glinting in the sunlight, Lance of Ruin in his grip and his head held high, he’d been _ prepared _ to drown in the blood of former friends and companions. 

Anything to change the future. Anything to _ make it right _ . It’s why he joined the Golden Deer. IT’s why he followed Claude, when the War broke out. He wouldn’t wish his past-- his _ present-- _ on anyone. The less that _ Crests _ mattered, the better. He’d never done Miklan proud, but the least he could do was ensure that no one else suffers like his brother did.

And then he saw Felix, and like always, Felix fucks things up. _ Every. Fucking. Time_. 

The man in question groans against him, fingers tight around Sylvain’s waist. “Fucking armor,” he hisses, sliding his hands down, pulling at the metal. It’s not a complicated get up, not really, but the combination of metal and leather isn’t what Felix is used to. He tugs at it again, frustrated. 

Yeah, Sylvain is always fucked, when it comes to Felix. He thinks back to when they were kids, nothing but awkward limbs, and hands and feet. Felix, the crybaby, always tucking himself into Sylvain’s side when things didn’t go his way. And then when they were teenagers, holding each other world’s apart in young adult angst, because they couldn’t address whatever it was that had grown between them. They _ refused _ to. 

Eventually it had spread so far and wide, that it’d snapped, and the two of them were never the same. Felix was pulled one way, and Sylvain was pulled another, nothing solved between them. 

Sylvain’s fingers ghost along Felix’s neck, the skin dirty and covered with the grime of battle. They press into his skin, glide along his collarbone, settle under his jaw, and he feels Felix’s breath hitch slightly. The bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows. 

It’s too tender for what Felix wants, Sylvain realizes. His old friend is frozen with apprehension. Tender and sweet confessions aren’t what this moment is about. No, the moment he’d seen Felix across from him with his sword poised and ready, a fire had ignited. He was intent on doing anything he can to quell the burning that ran through him and straight to his groin. 

They should be fighting. They are at each other’s throats, and they should be _ killing _ each other. But instead they’ve pressed themselves into the depths of an abandoned bunker from decades before. It’s slick with mud and crumbling earth, Felix’s back pressed against tumbledown wall.

Sylvain leans over, pressing his lips to Felix’s neck. Felix leans into the touch, his fingers tightening against him, hips pressing against Sylvain urgently. They don’t have a lot of time, but he doesn’t really care. He’s always wanted this, _ always _. 

Sure he’d brought woman after woman to his room, but it’d always been Felix he was thinking about. Squirming below him, warm and tight _ around _ him, images that fueled his dreams for literally _ years._

“_Off_,” Felix gasps, and Sylvain thinks that he means off of him. He pulls back slightly, but Felix curls his fingers into his belt, clamoring against buckles and snaps and-- _ Oh_. 

“Patience,” Sylvain hisses back, pulling Felix’s hands away from his armor. Instead, he pulls his gloves off, tossing them to the wet ground.

“There’s no time-- _ Ah_.” 

Sylvain’s bent back over, his tongue slipping out to lick up the side of Felix’s jawline. “I know,” he whispers against his skin, peppering a few kisses along the column of his neck. Felix _ whines _ beneath him, and the sound strikes low below the belt. “I _ know_,” he repeats, pausing to catch a small section of skin between his teeth, sucking on it. It’s with more gentleness than he knows that Felix wants, but Sylvain is intent on savoring this.

He has no idea how long he has Felix here, warm and pliable in his hands, but he’ll treasure this moment for the rest of his life. 

Felix lifts his hips, trying to press closer, but Sylvain grabs them, holding firm. Felix has always been the wild one between them, despite what people have always thought, and Sylvain has always done his best to temper him. “Stay,” he breathes, pressing another kiss below his ear. 

A snarl of frustration escapes Felix. “Do not _ command_\--”

“It’s not a command, it’s a request.” Sylvain squeezes his hips, rolling his own closer. The sound the escapes Felix is worth the teasing. The man relents, his head falling back against the wall of the bunker, baring his pale neck. Sylvain pulls back to stare. He raises a hand to his chin, thumbing over Felix’s lips, pressing gently against the pink skin there and--

Felix’s tongue darts out, warm against his cold skin, swirling around the digit and _ fuck_. Sylvain dips back down, pulling his chin up, and he’s surprised by how compliant Felix is, melting into the hold. 

Felix’s lips are cold, but they are also soft. Felix fights back, trying to take over, and the kiss takes an aggressive turn. They nip at each other, tongues clashing and teeth clacking. Sylvain’s grip is bruising and Felix fights against it, but it’s everything he's ever wanted. _ Felix _ is everything that he’s ever wanted. 

There are hands at his waist again, pulling at his belt, his fabric, his _ anything _. Sylvain pulls away. “Okay,” he murmurs against Felix’s cheek. He unclasps his metal breastplate and then the leather jerkin underneath. He’s never quite gotten used to the lightweight nature of Almyran riding leathers, but at the moment, he’s thankful. Felix yanks his linen undershirt upwards and then hooks his fingers into the waistband of his riding pants.

“_ Hurry_,” he urges. 

“Hush,” Sylvain chides. But Felix is right. They’ve wasted too much time, and if they’re going to indulge any further, they need to _ move it _. He struggles with the buttons of his pants, his fingers cold and clammy, and too nervous to move right. 

“Useless,” Felix snaps. Sylvain can feel him shaking with impatience, and _ Goddess _ it’s hot. Sylvain is practically burning with need. Felix slaps his hands away, undoing the final button himself. He pulls open the fly with one hand, quickly licks the other and--

“Goddess above--” Felix’s hand is calloused and rough against his cock, but Sylvain ruts into it, like a man starving. The grip is tight, but slick, far exceeding his expectations. “_Seiros herself.” _

“At least call my name, you dolt.” Felix punctuates the comment with a twist of his wrist, and Sylvain’s head drops, pressing into the juncture of his neck. Felix smells like dirt and sweat, and weapons oil. 

“Felix,” he moans, pulling his hips back, before snapping right back into the tight grip. “_Felix_\--” His hips stutter suddenly, his hand grabbing ahold of Felix’s wrist in a warning. 

Felix pauses, then lets out a clipped laugh. “Already?” He squeezes once more before releasing his grip, his fingers dragging along the shaft with surprising gentleness.

“You’re killing me here,” Sylvain says. “You’re… Why am I the only one with his pants hanging open?” 

“_Insatiable_,” Felix replies, but his lips quirk with amusement, as his hand leaves Sylvain’s pants and move to himself. But then he fumbles with his own findings, hands shaking with anticipation as he struggles to undo the clasps of his ridiculous overcoat. 

Sylvain skims his hands through the opening of the jacket, across his chest and down, taking in the hard ridges of his muscles. Felix’s breath hitches, his hands faltering on his pants fastening, as Sylvain pulls his shirt up. There’s only a sliver of skin there, but it’s enough. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Sylvain breathes, taking in the pale stomach beneath his hands. 

“Less talking, more touching.” Felix pulls his pants open, revealing his cock and Sylvain’s mouth waters. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him naked before, between baths and training, but never like this-- hard, aching for attention, _ wanting _ Sylvain’s hands on him. 

Sylvain obliges. Felix is hot in his hand and already slightly slick from the precum dribbling from the tip. He keeps his grip looser than the vice grip that Felix had used, sliding his thumb along the crown of his dick. Felix’s head falls back into the mud as his hips press closer. 

“Beautiful,” Sylvain whispers, tightening his grip slightly, sliding the foreskin back and forth slowly. “Perfect--”

“_Shut up_,” Felix grunts, but his voice catches, wavering as it pitches higher. Sylvain leans over him again, his own erection pressing against the top of Felix’s hip, grinding against the soft skin there.

Smiling against his neck, he presses a kiss there. “Never,” he says. He shifts their positions slightly, pressing their hips close.

“Sylvain, now isn’t the time.” But then Felix keens as Sylvain presses their cocks together, wrapping his hand around the both of them. Spit isn’t the best of lubricants, but it’ll have to do. 

“I have to tell you,” Sylvain says, sliding his hand along their lengths.

“This _ really _ is bad timing-- _ Sylvain_.” Sylvain laughs, as his hand twists around the tips of them together, spreading the moisture there. Felix arches into him, bucking his hips into his hand, trying to get as much friction as he can. 

“I thought that I was prepared to do anything,” Sylvain tells him. “But then I saw you, Felix, and you just-- Goddess, you’ve always been _ everything_. And look at you now.” He punctuates his words with another pump of his hand. 

Felix tries to hold back his moan. This is stupid, they should absolutely not being doing this here, but they cannot help it. This is the end for them, this is all that they have. This is their last chance, and Sylvain will indulge for as long as he can. He’ll make it fucking count.

He pauses his grip, leaving Felix to let out a frustrated grunt. “Sylvain--” he warns, but Sylvain cuts him off. 

“Fe, look at me.” Felix does, and his amber gaze is full of something _ far more _ than a last minute, mid-battle, end-of-your-life fuck. Sylvain cradles his jaw with his free hand. 

“_Don’t_,” Felix pleads, his voice cracking. 

Sylvain ignores him. “I love you,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against Felix’s. He closes his eyes and savors the moment. “I’ve always-- This really is the worst timing, isn’t it.”

“Less talking,” Felix says again, pressing his lips to Sylvain’s urgently. He bucks his hips once, _ twice _ , trying to get Sylvain moving once more. Everything about Felix is urgent, it always has been but-- _ Right. _ They’re running out of time.

Sylvain tightens his hand around them, his grip sliding faster than before. Felix responds immediately, thrusting into his fingers frantically. Felix bites at Sylvain, nipping at his lips, trying to take him for all he’s worth. But Sylvain coaxes a gentler touch, his tongue snaking out along Felix’s lips with careful reverence. It isn’t until his hand lifts to grab at dark, silken locks, pulling away the tie that holds them-- that Felix stills again.

“Come with me.” It’s a stupid thing to say, but Sylvain hasn’t always made smart decisions. 

“Syl--”

“_Please_,” Sylvain begs. His grip tightens, he pumps faster, and _ Goddess _ Felix feels amazing next to him. Their lengths, hard and aching, hot like steel, skin soft like velvet. “Felix I can’t-- There’s _ nothing _ without you. I’ve _ been _ nothing.”

He’s been a shell, these last five years. And here’s Felix at long last, breath hitching, keening into his touch, utterly divine as Sylvain pulls the most amazing sounds from his mouth. 

“_Yes_.”

Sylvain spills first. It burns, as it wells up within him. He tips over the edge with a shuddering breath and quiet words muttered into Felix’s sweaty skin. Felix bucks harder into his grip, ignoring Sylvain’s cries about over stimulation, about how it’s _ too much._

Sylvain is going to die. Not because Felix wields a blade at his throat, but because Felix is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. His face is flushed, bangs sticking to his sweaty brow, voice keening as he ruts against him. Sylvain pulls himself from his grasp, dropping to his knees.

And Felix is about to protest, but he doesn’t get the chance. Sylvain’s wrapped his mouth around him, Felix’s length sliding across his palate. He’s never done this, but he doesn’t care, he _ doesn’t think _ past the taste and weight across his tongue. 

“Fuck,” Felix hisses, trying hard not to move his hips in response. His hands find purchase in Sylvain’s hair, gripping tight enough that it hurts. Sylvain loves it, he loves everything about this. The urgency, the fear of it. Sylvain hums lightly, sucking at him, pulling him in deeper. “Godd-- _ Sylvain_.”

Sylvain hangs tight onto him, fingers curling into the leather of his pants. Felix looks down at him, eyes tired, but bright with arousal. One hand slips from his hair, down to his jaw, grasping at the skin there.

“You’re--” He pauses, his head slipping back against the mud, eyes falling shut as he lets out a moan. “_ Perfect_,” he finishes. “Goddess, look at you, Sylvain.” 

The hand in his hair brushes at it gently, and Sylvain moans around him. He pulls off slightly, grabbing the base of Felix’s length, pumping it tightly as he licks around the tip. 

“Yes,” Felix murmurs, “_Yes_.” Sylvain thinks he’s talking about his mouth on him. He thinks he wants more, and he’s prepared to give it to him, but then Felix utters something else. “Anywhere,” he says. “I’ll go with you, anywhere, just--” 

Felix doesn’t have time to warn him, as he tips over the edge. Sylvain isn’t ready, his release surprising him. He pulls back, coughing, spitting out the salty liquid. He half expects Felix to get annoyed but--

Felix runs his hands through his hair gingerly, as he heaves a heavy, shuddering sigh. Sylvain presses his forehead against the other man’s thigh, the heat between them slowly fizzling away. 

And then he panics. _ What the actual fuck have they just done _ . Claude will be looking for him, Dimitri will _ kill _ the both of them if they’re found together, and even if his wildest fantasy had finally been indulged, this wasn’t the time to dwell on--

“We need to get out of here,” Felix says, interrupting his thoughts. 

_ What_? When Sylvain pulls away to look at him, Felix doesn’t seem to be teasing. They tuck themselves away in silence, readjusting their clothing. 

Finally, Sylvain says, “Felix--”

“No, it’s my turn,” the other man interrupts. He snaps his coat up, before leaning over and grabbing Sylvain’s discarded gloves. When he reaches for them, Felix stops him, taking his hand into his. “You said earlier that you’ve been nothing, and I--” He pauses, trying to find the right words. 

“I’m not good with feelings,” he admits. “But I’m tired of ignoring them. I’m tired of war and death, and I’m tired of being alone.”

Sylvain gets it, the exhaustion. He understands better than anyone. “Felix, when I said that I love you, I meant it,” he replies.

And then Felix smiles. It’s small, but it’s there, and it’s real. “Lets go,” he answers. 

Well, it’s _ something _ at least. 

Felix clambers up the side of the bunker, before leaning over to help Sylvain up next. There’s the din of fighting all around them, but they’ve gone unnoticed. 

“Where to?” Sylvain asks.

Felix looks back at him and it’s without a shred of hesitation. “Anywhere but here.”

When he holds out his hand, Sylvain immediately takes it. 

  


**Author's Note:**

> Have questions? A burning need for answers? Have a story idea? Just want to talk Sylvix? Don't forget to check out my [Tumblr](https://missmarquin.tumblr.com/), and drop an ask!
> 
> Also, follow me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/GimmetheKfc)


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